Tales from the Book of Judith
by Praxid
Summary: A series of one-shots based in the universe of my ten-chapter novella, The Book of Judith.


_This is an experiment in the making—a one-shot set in the universe of my ten-part novella, The Book of Judith. I've missed its world and the relationship between its characters so much, it was hard to stay away. _

_You will have to have read The Book of Judith in order for this story to make much sense to you. I just had to try it out. So... if this is something people will enjoy, I may do a few more. Just here and there—probably posted to tumblr before I put them up here. I have another in mind already. For now, here's the first one, titled "Fort."_

* * *

_Fort:_

The whole building was made out of stone—walls, floors. Everything. So as Daryl searched the hallways, he could hear his own footfalls echoing in the cool, open air.

He wanted to go over the place as thoroughly as he could—before he told Judy it was safe to sleep there, for the night.

She'd been so _excited_ by the notion, when he raised it. Spending a night in an old library. A Victorian-Gothic sort of thing, with heavy ivy climbing all around the walls outside. With no one around to trim those vines, they had pretty much devoured the whole building. Crowded over the window panes. Worked their way around the gutters and eaves—even the stone angels at the rooftop.

And now, inside, Daryl turned a corner—into a row of stacks. Carefully scanned the shadows for any sign of movement. Stood in front of a bulletin board, covered with yellowed, curling fliers. He could smell the must of the old books, as he did it.

The light pouring through the windows was filtered and dim—shaded by the leafy silhouettes of the vines outside.

Even to Daryl, the place seemed beautiful. And even more so because Judy thought it was.

She was eight years old, now—and it seemed to Daryl that eight-year-old girls were _supposed _to like this sort of thing. When he showed her the place for the first time, her eyes lit up like Christmas. And she told him it looked like an old castle. Like a story book. Like a fairy tale.

But fairy tales have monsters in them. He needed to make sure none of them could reach her, if she slept in her stone tower.

So he'd left her in a research carrel. A little one—like a closet—with a door that latched. Told her to hide in there, and to stay quiet.

She'd be safe, tucked away like that, until he came back for her.

Daryl stepped over a spray of dead leaves on the floor, blown in from some broken window he couldn't see.

All at once, a rustling noise broke the quiet. A flash of movement, from the side.

He darted around. Saw a squirrel, scuttling off towards a nest at the top of a bookshelf. Lowered his bow. Let the calm silence wash over him, again.

But an instant later, he heard something else:

"Daryl!"

Judy's voice. It echoed on the marble floor from somewhere up above. And again:

"_Daryl!_"

Judith. Judith calling for him.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was already running towards the sound of her voice. Bolted up the stairway—up towards the second level. Grabbed the newel post with one hand and tugged himself past the last couple steps. Ran down the hall—towards the carrel where he'd left her.

The seconds stretched on, and she didn't call out again. It was painfully quiet. His footfalls echoed out and out and out on the stone floor.

As he turned the corner—knew he was about to find her—his gut twisted with a familiar, slow dread. One that was always there. Most of the time, it laid low—a dull weight, carried so long he usually didn't notice it. But now, it sprang alive in an instant. Flared up bright and hot. His throat tightened. He rushed to her—muscles tensed and ready. Clung to his crossbow.

The door. The door to the carrel was hanging wide open.

He threw himself into that doorway, and saw… nothing.

A couple chairs, with his poncho draped over them—like a tent. Books scattered around on the floor.

He stared at that strange tableau a moment—confused. But then a little face darted out from under that poncho, smiling at him.

Judy.

He lowered the crossbow. Looked her over. Put together what happened. She'd made herself a little clubhouse. Used the poncho that he'd left on his _bike_, parked outside the building.

He'd left it outside—he was sure of it. So that meant she went outside to _get_ it.

She'd broken her promise to stay put. Gone out there. Did it_ alone—_unprotected_._

"What's this?" he asked.

His voice was clipped—hard. He could hear the anger simmering in it. And Judith… the smile lingered on her face, a moment, and then dissolved away to nothing.

She tried to speak up.

"It's…"

He glared at her. She trailed off, as if she was starting to realize she'd done something wrong.

"It's a… _fort…_"

He stepped into the little room. Put his crossbow down on the desk, inside.

"You go out to the bike _without me?"_

She stood up. Climbed right out of that little fort—as if by stepping _away_ from it, she could pretend it didn't exist. And she looked down at the floor. Kicked at it with her shoe.

"Well… I—"

"The hell you _thinkin'_, Jude?"

He stepped towards her—fast, so she shrank back. His voice was loud against the close walls. But he just kept on going:

"You got the first fucking _clue_ how dangerous that is? What've I always said about going off alone? _Huh?_"

She didn't answer. They _both_ knew what he'd said about that. Daryl let out a hard breath. Rough. Deep in his throat. The sound made Judith jump.

"You listen to a goddamn word I _say?_"

A pause.

"... Daryl… I—"

"—Just _now_, when I _put you in here_. What'd I tell you?"

She stared at him with her big eyes. Her face was blank. And Daryl—he was livid. Leaned in close, and stared her down.

"What'd I _tell you?_"

She looked away. Murmured something he couldn't hear.

"What was that?"

"Can't I…"

He threw up his hands.

"Can't you _what?_"

Her face darted up at him, and she spat out some words.

"… can't I _ever do_ _anything?_"

Judy. Her voice. It stopped him in his tracks. And he just stood there, face to face with her—tall and strong and hulking. And she seemed so _little_ to him.

She was such a little girl.

He moved to say something—but he heard a noise in the hall. Coming closer. And Judith was looking over that way—so she saw whatever was behind him. Her eyes got wide. She gasped—stared hard. Over his shoulder.

Daryl spun around. A walker—right in the doorway. It heard him shouting at her. And it was only then he realized he'd been yelling so loud he'd been _bound_ to call anything nearby.

And he didn't hesitate. Drew his knife, and grabbed it by the throat. Pushed it out into the hallway—against the balustrade overhanging the lobby, below. Stabbed it hard—right in the eye.

He grunted. Tossed it over the rail, and down into the first level. It hit the side of a dangling chandelier, and landed on the ground with a thud.

He looked at it a moment, sprawled out on the floor in front of the circulation desk. The chandelier swung back and forth.

Then he turned back. He was breathing hard. Felt a splatter of blood running down his face. Stepped back into the doorway of the carrel.

He spread his hands.

"Judy… you stay put where I tell you to stay put. _Always_. You hear me?"

And Judith nodded—but she didn't answer.

She was crying.

She was so little. He was so big. Standing there in the doorway, his shadow completely swallowed her up.

Judith never was one to cry very much. Even when she was a baby. Usually, it was because she was scared of something.

Daryl sighed.

And he knew nothing else was coming—not right away, anyhow. With how loud he'd been, anything else would've headed straight for them. If there were more close by, he'd know it by now.

So he stepped into the little carrel. Let the door fall shut behind him. Inched past Judy, where she was standing.

And then he crouched down, and crawled into her fort. Sat there, under the poncho—between the chairs.

And Daryl nodded her over:

"C'mon."

She hesitated—seemed busy wiping at her eyes. So he tried to coax her, gently:

"Judy, c'mon in here."

He patted the floor beside him.

"We got a fort," he said, "May as well make ourselves at home, right?"

She climbed in, at that. At first, he thought she wouldn't _fit_. Not with him in there, too. But she was very small, and there was enough room.

A moment later, she was settled under the thing at his side. Had her chin on her knees. Hugged at her shins with her thin, little-girl arms.

There were books scattered around on the floor. So Daryl picked one of them up. Just at random. Flipped it open to one of the pages. Immediately, a familiar name jumped out at him, there.

Daryl chuckled.

"Hey look, kid—this story's about _you_."

She turned to him. Looked up with red-rimmed eyes. Sniffled a bit, when she tried to speak:

"… what'd you mean it's about me?"

"Just _look_. It's about Judith, see? Says so on the title."

He flipped to the front. Pointed to the frontispiece with its fancy, scrolling letters:

_The Book of Judith_

She started to perk up, then. Got curious. Scooted in closer to his side.

"What's it say about me?"

"Well…"

He looked over some pages. Skimmed the story.

"Seems like you killed an evil governor…"

"That's just like when we were at the pr—"

He cut her off.

"Somethin' like that."

She leaned in. Looked over the pages. Her long, wavy hair spilled over his arm as she did it.

"Read it to me."

"It's kinda for grownups, kid—you sure you won't get bored?"

"I wanna hear it."

Daryl smiled a little. Nodded.

"Ok."

So he did his best to play storyteller—it wasn't a job that came easily to him, but it was one she'd pretty much demanded he take on, over the years. He glossed over the story, a bit. Tried to simplify the whole thing up for her. Toned down some of the racier bits. Where Judith got the wicked governor in bed with her, then hacked off his head while he was sleeping.

The book said the story was from the Bible—so Daryl was kind of surprised by how dirty it was.

But that didn't matter too much, in the end. Really, it was nothing compared to what Judy lived with every day.

After a while, the story ended. The light got long, spilling out from the vine-covered window. Cast leafy shadows on the floor beyond their fort. Filtered through the poncho. Cast colors from the dyed weave on the book, and Daryl's hands.

Judith grabbed the book from him, when he was done. Flipped around in it. Read bits and pieces. Looked more closely at the pictures. Daryl watched her. Leaned in. Pulled at a lock of her hair. Tucked it behind her ear.

And he spoke to her. Tried his best to be soft. Gentle, so he wouldn't scare her, this time.

"Don't ever do that again, Jude."

She kept looking down, at the book. But he could see that her lower lip was trembling.

And he wanted to drop it, then—wanted to ease up on her. But there was no choice in the matter.

So he pressed on.

"Jude?"

She looked up at him, gravely.

"Yeah, Daryl. I promise."

And Judith—she rested her head on his shoulder, then. Like she wanted to feel him close. And there was no self-consciousness about it. No hesitation. She just settled in against him like it was natural. She was always like that, with him—using him as a footrest or a pillow. Propping herself up. As if his being there was something she took completely and utterly for granted.

And she kept looking through the pages. Settled on one, in particular.

"Hey _look_, Daryl—there's a picture of her, in here."

She held it up. Pointed. And there it was. A painting of a girl with dark, wavy hair and a gilded dress. She had a sword in one hand. A severed head in the other.

"That's what she looks like—Judith, I mean."

"Yeah," Daryl said, leaning in over the page, "That's her alright."

"So…. what do you think of her?"

And Daryl looked down at Judy, right there against him. Felt the warmth of her nestling into his side. And in that moment, she wound one of her arms around his, and pulled up close.

Daryl smiled to himself. Just a little tug of the lips.

"I think she's beautiful," he said.


End file.
